Velvet Gloves and Spit
by Dala1
Summary: Kitty and Jubilee do some meddling so that Rogue and Logan can do some . . . well, look at the title, what do you think?


Disclaimer: Everyone (except Mark the Sex Shop Boy) belongs to someone else.  
Author's Note: I thought this plot bunny had died. But apparently it was just in a coma, waiting until I was caught off-guard and then taking me hostage to finish it. I should be working on Promises, not silly fics like this. Oh well, such is my life. The title is that of a Neil Diamond album. Going through the family record collection is useful in so many ways.  
  
  
  
"Kitty."  
  
Jubilee's whisper roused her from a half-sleep, and she rolled over to glare sleepily at her roommate. "What?"  
  
"Think she'll be back tonight?"  
  
The other girl sighed. "Of course she will. Late, but she'll be back. She never stays the whole night."  
  
"I don't know why they haven't just done it. He's been around, I'm sure he can think of ways to get past her mutation--shit, *I* could think of a few."  
  
"You know she's scared of hurting him."  
  
"And he'd never push her."  
  
Kitty and Jubilee silently contemplated the fate of their friend Rogue and her strange boyfriend for a few moments. Even though she spent hours in his room, Rogue came back every night, and nothing seriously physical had happened--that was obvious. The one time Jubilee had brought it up, Rogue had blushed like a boiled lobster and refused to answer any questions.  
  
So she wanted him, and yet she wasn't getting any. To them, it was unthinkable.  
  
Suddenly Kitty had an interesting thought, followed by . . . yes, there it was, the unmistakable beginnings of a plan. "Hey, Jubes, it's Rogue's birthday in a week."  
  
"I know, I don't know what I'm going to get her."  
  
The wheels started turning even more furiously, and Kitty smiled-this plan was more up Jubilee's alley, so she knew it would work. "We're gonna collaborate on this gift. I hope you're free to go shopping tomorrow . . ."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
The two people who would soon be at the mercy of their plans were currently shacked up on Logan's bed.  
  
She was asleep in his arms, the waves of her hair spilling over his shoulder. He stroked it absently as he thought.  
  
It had been a month already, a month since he'd come home in the middle of a pouring rain, standing outside the mansion and trying to figure out why he couldn't bring himself to set foot inside. He'd heard a soft call of "Hey," and looked up to see her leaning out of her window, the white shocks of her hair falling in front of her face. That face--the face which had haunted his dreams for a year, had comforted him and smiled at him when he learned that his past chose to stay buried . . . it was older, wiser, the face of a woman he'd come home to, with the shadow of the girl he'd left behind in her eyes.  
  
He had climbed the stairs slowly, reluctantly, and let her pull him shivering through the door. By the sheerest accident of luck, her roommates were both visiting home, and she implored him to dry off and sleep in her own bed, because he looked like he hadn't gotten rest in days. He remembered the feel of the pillow, so soft against his cheek, and the scent of her that wrapped around him and warmed him better than the blankets ever could.  
  
Rogue sat on Kitty's bed and gazed at him all night. He was still Logan, and he was home--but he had grown unaccustomed to solitude and his travels had made him weary, and afraid of what he could feel so quickly and so strongly. Rogue herself was a bit surprised at the intense awareness she felt when he was near, even after all this time.  
  
By the next afternoon, word had spread around that Logan had returned, and people looked all around to catch sight of him--those who barely remembered, but had heard the tale of that night on the Statue of Liberty and wanted to have a look at the famous Wolverine. Logan couldn't have cared less. He met with the professor in the morning, said a casual hello to Scott, Jean, and Ororo, and returned to Rogue's room. Neither of them thought to wonder at the natural way his arm seemed to drift to her waist, holding her lightly, and the way her head usually fell back to rest against his shoulder. Mostly they sat in peaceful silence, but gradually each learned what had happened in the lives of the other during the past year. There were some tears on Rogue's part, a fair amount of growling on Logan's, but they got through the obligatory Talk with a greater understanding of each other, and a knowledge of where they stood.  
  
It was love, and Logan was tired of telling himself he was being foolish and sentimental. Tired of denying the truth and then running from it. He said as much, looking her hesitantly in the eye, and it was hard to get out the words. But once he'd said them--those three little words that have caused so much turmoil in the history of the human race--he seemed to breathe easier, and her smile made him warm amid the uncertainty. And when she said it back, things got even better.  
  
Most people wouldn't have pegged Logan for the chivalrous type, but as Kitty and Jubilee had noticed, they'd done no touching that would call for even a PG-13 rating. The rest of the mansion's residents knew it, too, and were puzzled--anyone who saw the way one pair of eyes followed the other's backside across the room would be. It was look-but-don't touch for the exact reasons Rogue's two scheming roommates guessed: she was nervous about what her skin could do, and so would not make the first move; Logan was nervous about her nervousness, and decided that until *she* decided to make the first move, *he* wasn't going to. And so there was simply no moving going on, despite the obvious longing between them.  
  
Rogue twitched an arm and murmured something into his shirt.  
  
He smiled and ran a hand down her shoulder blade. "What was that, darlin'?"  
  
"Mmm. That feels good." He continued his caress, rewarded with an-almost purr and a stretch that brought one leg draping over his. Moving his hand down her waist, over the curve of her hip, to gently stroke her thigh, he felt her muscles tense.  
  
She pushed away from him and scrambled to her feet. "I'm sorry," she said, then quickly changed tides. "You shouldn't have let me fall asleep!"  
  
He got up as well, sighing regretfully as his body was again denied the touch it craved. "We were fine. I was awake the whole time. Nothing happened."  
  
"But it could have! What if you'd fallen asleep too, or let your hand move just a little carelessly . . ." She trailed off as he reached out to grip her gloved hand.  
  
"Marie." Logan looked steadily into her eyes. "Nothing. Happened."  
  
Her face twisted into a grudging smile. "I know. I just . . . get worried."  
  
"Too much," he said, frowning.   
  
She shrugged and looked at her watch. "It's past eleven. Good night, Logan." He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and touch her until she agreed to stay, preferably panting and moaning his name, but the mood was irreparable. He only pressed a kiss to her palm and opened the door.  
  
Rogue hurried back to her own room, arms wrapped around herself. It was getting harder and harder to leave, to tell her body's heat to cool, to meet that disappointed look in his eyes . . . but she was going to be the strong one this time.   
  
*Strong? Whatever*, she thought bitterly, feeling the weakness in her legs as she fell into bed.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Jubes, I don't think I like this anymore!"  
  
Jubilee rolled her eyes and shoved Kitty toward the building. "It was *your* idea, Shadowcat. Quit being such a wuss!"  
  
Kitty couldn't help it. This had seemed like such a good idea last night, but now, in broad daylight . . . she quailed at the window displays and squeezed her eyes shut as she walked inside. This was not happening. They were not really shopping at a store called Thompson's Adult Playpen.  
  
Flashing the doorman their IDs, Jubilee paused to look around. "It's not that bad," she mused. "Pretty tasteful, actually."  
  
Kitty ignored her and refused to open her eyes.  
  
"May I help you?"  
  
Both girls turned at the sound of the pleasant, young, male voice. Jubilee's eyes opened wide as she saw the pleasant young male it was attached to. She'd thought only lecherous old men would work at a place like this, but damn, this guy was hot. She poked Kitty and batted her eyelashes at . . . "Mark," Jubilee purred. "Yes, we would like some help, please. We're kind of new to this scene."  
  
He nodded, flashing a wonderfully white set of teeth. "I see. Well, would you like to start at strap-ons, or maybe edible underwear?"  
  
Kitty turned deathly pale as he winked at her.  
  
"No, no," Jubilee said emphatically. "We're not . . ." She laughed, prying her arm away from Kitty's steel grip. The girl was about to phase through the floor with embarrassment. "We're not together. Shopping for some friends of ours."  
  
It was clear Mark didn't believe her, but her description of the exact nature of Rogue and Logan's difficulties was too detailed to be made up. He listened, intrigued, and pointed down an aisle. "I think we can find some items here that would be of use to your friends."  
  
She followed him, dragging the mortified Kitty behind her.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"Phase two complete?" Kitty hissed.  
  
Jubilee sighed. Now that the package was wrapped and she didn't have to look at it anymore, Kitty was going all commando. "Yes. And now for the fun part--watching." She grinned and ducked around the corner. Both of them peered around, waiting for contact.  
  
Logan poked his head out of his door, grumbling. Some of the newer students liked to play pranks, and if someone had thought to deliver thirty pizzas to his door . . . but whoever had knocked was nowhere in sight. There was only a large box on the floor, covered in pink flowers and lavender hearts.  
  
Kitty and Jubilee peeped from their hiding spot as he read the attached note, trying to hold back giggles as his eyes grew enormous. In fact, they looked like they were about to pop out of his head. He looked up and scanned the corridor, sniffing the air suspiciously. But Jubilee had washed her hair with Rogue's shampoo and put on the scent she occasionally wore, so he got the desired impression. The blind panic evident in his eyes was one hell of a funny sight. He looked about once more and finally retreated back into his room.  
  
They let the laughter out, falling onto the floor in mirth. After several minutes, Jubilee recovered enough to say, "Okay. Now, on to Rogue."  
  
"Phase three," Kitty added, a glint in her eyes.   
  
Jubilee shook her head. "We oughta tell Professor Xavier what a terrific strategist you are, Miss Pryde."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Rogue hummed along with the radio as she toweled off. Even with the bathroom door closed and locked, showering with anyone else nearby made her nervous. The theory that most accidents happen in the home took on a new meaning when one had deadly skin.   
  
She was sprawled on her bed reading when Kitty and Jubilee entered. They both began talking at once, with the slightly breathless voices of girls who'd just had an attack of the giggles. Rogue held up a hand, grinning. "Stop! One at a time, please."  
  
"We ran into Logan in the hallway," Kitty blurted.  
  
"He wanted to talk to you," Jubilee added, raising her eyebrows suggestively and putting a stress on 'talk'.  
  
Rogue sighed. Her roommates approved of her relationship, which was a good thing, but they were also extremely interested in it, which was a bad thing.  
  
"He said he had a birthday surprise for you," Kitty called out as she left. Rogue frowned. Disliking the fuss that always accompanied it, she'd told very few people when her birthday was, and Logan was not among them. Still, maybe he'd gotten talkative one day and asked the girls. Lions were known to lay down with lambs on major holidays, after all.  
  
She knocked on his door. "Come in," Logan said. His voice sounded . . . strange. Very strange.  
  
Entering, she found him wearing a trail in the carpet--pacing from one wall to the other, arms crossed over his chest, extremely agitated.  
  
"Logan?" She stepped closer. "What's wrong?"  
  
He stopped abruptly and his gaze flickered over to her. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "No--nothing, Marie. Just . . ."  
  
"Tell me." She laid a hand on his arm, alarmed by this display.  
  
Finally Logan met her eyes. His stare was utterly confused. "I didn't know you felt this way."  
  
"What way? What the hell is going on?" she demanded.  
  
The confusion rose. "This . . ." And he stepped aside to reveal a bright box on his bed.  
  
Kitty had said something about a birthday gift, so she said, "Is it for me?"  
  
Now he looked at her as though she were slightly stupid. "No, darlin', it's *from* you. To me. And I'd kind of like an explanation."  
  
Rogue picked up the letter lying open on top of the box. "This isn't my handwriting," she said with a glance at it.  
  
The color seemed to drain from his face as he did some math in his head. "Never mind," he said, reaching for the paper.  
  
She danced away, avoiding his grasp and his protests. "Marie, no!"  
  
Leaping onto the bed, she began to read aloud, her voice rising with amusement as he flailed for the letter. "'Logan, my dearest Wolverine, you know how very much I love you. I love the way you growl--" He did so, finally giving up and sinking into a chair with both hands over his eyes. "--and how that leather uniform clings to your bodacious sexy bod.'" She snorted. "Did you really think I wrote this? Have I ever said something like 'bodacious sexy bod'?"  
  
He grunted and kept his face covered.  
  
"'I want to worship your metal bones and your strong flesh," she continued, her voice taking on the quality of a bad soap opera diva's. "I want you to take me and make sweet, sticky, animal love to me on the full moon under an oak tree. Outside, in the grass, just you and me and our soaring love--and the little forest critters, of course.'" She had to stop reading because she was laughing so hard, and she collapsed onto the bed.  
  
"Glad you think it's funny," Logan grumbled, voice still muffled in his palms.  
  
Rogue cleared her throat and continued her passionate discourse. "'You may think that you can't do any of these things, but do not despair, my sweet furry love. Just because you cannot touch me, doesn't mean you cannot touch me.'" Rogue made a face. "What the hell does that mean?"  
  
Now that the humiliating letter was over, Logan had recovered from his turtle-like state. "Maybe we should open the box."  
  
She shrugged and started to tear off the paper. "I know who did this, you know," she remarked with a particularly stubborn piece of tape between her teeth.  
  
"Tell me who it is so I can kill 'em," Logan remarked grimly.  
  
Ignoring him, she pulled off the lid of the large box.  
  
He saw her mouth fall open, and snatched the parcel from her lap. Now it was Rogue's turn for embarrassment. Her face turned crimson, and she buried her head under Logan's pillow.  
  
A slow smile began to twitch at his lips as he drew out several lengths of cloth. They were long, shimmery, and nearly see-through. There were about a dozen pairs of gloves, made of material so light he could feel the texture of his own skin through it. Half of them were made for small female hands, and the other half fit his own perfectly. Also included was a multitude of condoms, varying in color, but mostly yellow. In fact, most of the gloves were yellow and the gauzy veils were yellowish in tint.  
  
And he knew who had done this, and decided that maybe she wasn't going to die after all.  
  
Silently he moved over to Rogue lying face-down on his bed, clutching a veil in gloved hands.  
  
"Marie."  
  
She didn't move. He took her shoulders gently, turned her over, dropped the veil over her face, and kissed her soundly.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"I can't hear anything."  
  
"They're quiet, Jubes."  
  
She pouted. "That's no fun. Time for Emergency Phase Four."  
  
Kitty sighed. "Just remember, this part wasn't my idea."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
It was late. Most of the mansion's residents were sleeping peacefully. Two of them were very far from sleep. And another pair wanted to make sure everyone knew it.  
  
The chorus was very loud in the silent halls, and it drew a lot of disturbed sleepers to their doorways.  
  
"LOGAN AND ROOO-GUE SITTIN' IN A TREE, EFF-YOU-SEE-KAY-EYE-EN-"  
  
A door slammed open. "Who the fuck is that?" Logan bellowed.  
  
And so it was that some lucky few in the Xavier Institute were treated to the sight of a Wolverine clad only in tiny black shorts and elbow-length yellow gloves. Kitty and Jubilee had already fled back to their room.  
  
Logan narrowed his eyes and glared at his gawking neighbors.  
  
"Logan, I'm gettin' cold . . ." came a silky voice from behind him.   
  
He closed the door.   
  
To the amusement of some (such as a quiet girl who walked through walls and another who provided entertainment at Fourth of July parties) and the annoyance of others (namely a good-looking young man wearing ruby quartz glasses), not many people were able to get back to sleep that night.  
  
  
  
Additional Note: the 'Logan and Rogue sittin' in a tree' bit was originally part of a review left by Alena; I liked the concept enough to make a fic out of it :) And the black shorts were heavily inspired by "Someone Like You". Not exactly ground-breaking work, but redeemed by the exquisite Mr. Jackman. Hoo baby, hold me back.  



End file.
